


Hiraeth

by Coffeeresonance



Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Just kids being kids, T just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4404533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffeeresonance/pseuds/Coffeeresonance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles in the Arcangelo household where two peculiar teens reside in.</p><p>Current:<br/>Unheard Sounds: "But as cliche as it sounds, he swears that he could feel the music cascading from the wooden instrument."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What counts

Drip. 15. Drip. 16.

The IV dripped 55 drops every minute. Worick was positive. He had counted. A lot. But listening to the reassuring drip made sure he didn't have to hear his uneven, shallow breathing. The numbers constantly flowing from the infusion to his mind kept him from counting the number of bloody, pus oozing stitches stretching across the pale muscle (though it might've been around 27, not that he's counted). He counts because the life given from the caprisun pouch of intravenous fluids to his absolutely not dying friend reminds him that Nicholas is all too human.

Because he is a human and not a Twilight.

Drip. 29. Drip. 30.

Nico is too weak to be a twilight. He's too deaf. He's too short, too kind and too... well human. His katana was always at his side but never drawn and his eyes, while dull, were never downright murderous. He's the farthest thing from a 'bloodthirsty, murdering drug addicted monster' like his teacher so kindly described (and unfortunately, even when he tries his best to blatantly ignore her, he can never forget the bullcrap his so-called "life educator" spouts). The only bloodthirsty addict he can think of is his abusive, drunkard 'father' and Worwick would rather die than compare his best friend to that inebriated, parenting failure. 

Drip. 41. Drip. 42.

His black tufts of hair were disheveled and his crinkled brow was drenched in sweat. His flushed cheeks shone on his usually white face and his lips, though cracked and bleeding, would ever so often mouth the words 'Worick' and 'sorry'. Of course he didn't notice. He's too occupied counting (although he might've stumbled on a number or two).

Drip. 54. Drip. 55.

4 hours and 38 minutes.

Drip. 1. Drip. 2.

And even though there's celebre rushing in his veins and tags dangling on his chest, Nicholas Brown, a Twilight, was the most human one in the Arcangelo household.


	2. And Satisfaction Brought it Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys find a stray kitten under their favorite tree.

An all too familiar copper smell. That was the first thing his sensitive nose caught when they first stepped outside. Ignoring the annoyed gestures from the book-toting Arcangelo, the half-asian instinctively sprinted to track its source, taking long strides across the lush grass. However, instead of finding a knife wielding intruder like he expected, the culprit ended up being a petite kitten lying on its side underneath the duo's favorite reading tree.

The cat, quickly identified as a Calico by a short-winded Worick, was gasping for air with bloody vomit dripping from its chin and red stained diarrhea a couple feet away. The pain etched on the stray's face was echoed through Worick's grimace and Nick didn't need to hear to know that it's breathing was raspy and forced.

"Hard to believe it's still alive," Worick said as he kneeled down to rub its stomach. However, just as his hand was about to make contact with the brittle fur, a sharp pull jerked his hand away from the creature. 

"Sick. Danger," Nico curtly snapped, voice rasp from disuse. Despite his warning, the earless preteen bent down, gently lifted the kit from the ground and held it in the crook of his arm, staining his already ragged clothes with a brownish red tint. As the Calico shifted and protested in pain, Worrick heard his bodyguard make a gruff, disgruntled noise with the back of his throat.

"You know Nico, maybe we can save her."

Before Nicholas could respond, the kitten's tiny, weak limbs went flying in all directions. Her sudden spasming forced the Brown to practically drop it back on the ground, where it continued to seize on the shady grass below. Nicholas shook as he watched its chest heave with every breath and its eyes dialate with each convulsion. Worick watched his reaction and was silently thankful that his best friend was unable to hear. He was definitely glad that Nico didn't have to listen to its muted, tortured screams that would replay in Worick's head for hours at night.

Its spasming stopped after two minutes, where it lied on its vomit and took in deep shallow breaths. Worick attempted to briskly approach it, only to be blocked once again, this time by Nicholas' short arm. 

"Nico! Get out of my way! Don't you want to save her?"

He shook his head, slowly at first then quicker. His clouded eyes stared at Worick's wide own and signed a single word.

Right index tapped to his left thumb.

'Kill.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have any suggestions, feel free to throw one in the comments!
> 
> (There was an alternative where they would keep the cat in the library. However, I'm sorry to say that it was tedious to write and didn't have the same effect as this ending. However, if they did keep the cat Worick would definitely name her Jo March from Little Women)


	3. Unheard Sounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But as cliche as it sounds, he swears that he could feel the music cascading from the wooden instrument.

He can't hear the music floating in the air. He can't hear the slightly out of tune cadenza or the missed notes in the prelude. No, when Worick plays the violin, Nicholas can't hear a lick of it. But as cliche as it sounds, he swears that he could feel the music cascading from the wooden instrument.

He feels it in Worick's movement, swaying with each crescendo and glissando. He feels it in Worick's relaxed brow, foreign to his constant face of tension. He feels it in the vibration of the strings, not reaching his ears but wrapping his entire being. He doesn't need to hear to know that with every single stroke of the bow, a note resonates with conviction and sincerity. The raw emotion Worick emits through his instrument was strangely intimate, but not unwelcome. And the blanket of sentiment draped around his shoulders helped him forget, just for a little while, who and what he is.  
-  
Worick never questions why Nicholas is present when he rehearses. The closed eyes and soft smile from outside the door says enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet chappy! I have a theory that being a rich white boy, Worick was forced to learn violin or piano. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my fanfiction writing debut! I was having trouble writing this fic and it didn't really turn out the way I imagined. However, I was hoping it would be enjoyable to some and adequate for my debut!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and hopefully I will update soon!


End file.
